


Caught

by cherrybina



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybina/pseuds/cherrybina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin get caught in a net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught

"I just don't understand why we had to come _here_ to hunt."

Merlin carefully makes his way through the heavy underbrush beneath the thick canopy of trees. It's a sunny day, but hardly any light filters through, and he stumbles in the gloom.

"You really are an idiot, aren't you? You can't just sit in a lovely meadow and wait for something to wander by."

Arthur is untroubled by the uneven terrain, and he moves easily ahead of Merlin.

Merlin rolls his eyes. "I know that, Arthur. I just mean that this is a dangerous area. Surely there is somewhere else?"

Arthur laughs mockingly. "Is that it then? You're afraid?"

"No," Merlin says automatically, and then reconsiders. "Well, yeah, maybe a little. It's just that you have a knack for getting into dangerous situations and that doesn't always end well for me."

"Relax, Merlin," Arthur says with a broad grin. "What could _possibly_ go wrong?"

Merlin sighs and trips over a root.

***

By the time Merlin sees the ropes hidden under the mound of dead leaves on the ground, it's too late to stop Arthur from walking right over it.

"Arthur, stop!" he shouts, and moves as quickly as he can, branches snapping against his face, but he's not fast enough, and just as Merlin's hands make contact with Arthur's body, they're swept up together in a large rope net, dangling high above the ground. They twist and scramble, trying to untangle themselves from one another and gain footing on the ropes. Arthur's knee digs painfully into Merlin's back as he tries to right himself and he lets out a sharp breath.

"Ugh. Arthur, watch it," he huffs, placing his feet on a large knot and carefully pushing up to a standing position; his back is pressed against Arthur's chest.

Arthur yanks at the ropes on either side of him, swearing in frustration. The whole net starts to swing wildly from Arthur's movements, and Merlin clings on, trying not to slip through the gaps under his feet.

"Well this is just fantastic," Arthur spits angrily, ceasing his struggle and slumping forward a bit.

"Shall we shout for help?" Merlin suggests.

"Honestly, Merlin," Arthur says with disgust, "do you want to alert whoever it was who set this trap in the first place?"

"Oh. Right."

Merlin stills and they sway in silence for a few moments. He thinks he can easily sever the rope with a simple spell, but he's not about to say anything magical in front of Arthur, and he doesn't trust himself to do the spell without speaking. That's usually how things end up going spectacularly wrong. He's so focused on coming up with a solution that it's not until he tugs experimentally at the ropes and moves a little that he notices something pressing into his thigh.

"Um," he starts, and doesn't know what to say after that.

"What?" Arthur growls in his ear.

Merlin shifts slightly and feels more clearly the hard line pressing against the back of his thigh.

"Oh, god. That's - that's your..." Merlin says as the realization hits him, and he surges forward away from Arthur but only succeeds in moving the whole net; Arthur is still pressed tightly against his back, held in place by the downward force of their bodies on the ropes.

"It's not exactly my fault!" Arthur shouts defensively, shoving hard on Merlin's back, trying unsuccessfully to push him away. "It's just - you're too close."

"I can't exactly help it, yeah?" Merlin says, and tries to shift himself but only succeeds in sliding his backside along Arthur.

"If you just _stop moving_, it will be fine in a minute," Arthur hisses.

Merlin ignores him and struggles to move away, ineffectually pulling at the ropes in front of him in a futile attempt to put some space between their bodies. Arthur huffs in exasperation and his hands come up and hold him in place.

"Stop, Merlin. You have to _stop_," he rasps.

Merlin stills, suddenly very aware of Arthur's hands on his waist and the heat of his body against his back. Something warm and pleasant settles in his stomach and curls outward, tingling under his skin.

They stay motionless for a few moments, save for the movement of the net, the air charged and heavy around them, and then Arthur rests his chin on Merlin's shoulder and he shifts his hips slightly until their curves and hollows slot into place, fitting tightly together. Merlin clutches at the ropes, frozen in place as Arthur breathes softly against his neck. His body is thrumming with _something_, and his pulse pounds so furiously in his ears that he thinks Arthur must hear the roar of blood that rushes through his head, making him dizzy.

Arthur's hips tilt forward fractionally and he hears a hitch of his breath in his ear; it's such a subtle movement that if Merlin hadn't been focusing every bit of his attention on the body pressing behind him he probably would have missed it. Merlin turns his head to the side so his cheek brushes Arthur's and when his stubble scrapes his skin a surge of heat races up his spine, burning hotly at the back of his neck and making his scalp feel like it's stretched too tightly over his head.

Arthur moves again, bolder this time, holding Merlin firmly by the hips and Merlin pushes back against him, bracing himself on the ropes, making Arthur gasp.

The net sways gently as Arthur rocks against him in a steady rhythm, fingers curling into Merlin's skin, grunting softly in his ear. When one of Arthur's hands leaves his hip and trails lazily down to stroke him through his breeches he groans and moves into his touch. The rough friction from the material is harsh on his skin, but he pushes forward into Arthur's hand, eager for more. Arthur speeds up his thrusts, rubbing himself on Merlin's backside while he strokes him with a strong hand.

Merlin holds tightly to the net, moving his hips in time with Arthur's, arching into his hand. He feels Arthur's breath coming ragged on his neck, hears his soft grunts in his ear, and Merlin knows he's almost there. When Arthur strokes him hard and pulls him back sharply against him he comes with a groan, Arthur shuddering behind him.

They don't move for several minutes, but then Arthur slowly releases his grip on Merlin's hip and pulls his face away from his neck. Merlin clears his throat and swallows, trying and failing to come up with appropriate words for the situation, but just then he hears voices approaching in the distance. He tenses for a moment remembering Arthur's previous warning, but as the voices draw near he sees a familiar flash of red through the trees, and Arthur shouts until the knights find the net and cut them loose.

Merlin is silent as they ride back to the castle, studiously avoiding Arthur's gaze. He makes a hasty retreat when they return, fleeing to his room and peeling off his sticky breeches, tossing them in the corner, briefly toying with the idea of making them disappear altogether.

He buries his head under the pillow on his narrow bed, his thoughts running in frantic circles around his head that don't stop even after he falls into a fitful sleep.

***

Merlin wakes slowly, the light filtering softly through the small window. He has a few blessed moments of peace, stretching comfortably against the sheets, before the events of previous day come back in a hot rush of embarrassment. He rubs his eyes harshly and wills himself to think of something else - anything other than the feel of Arthur rubbing against him or the sounds he made in his ear.

He has plenty of chores to keep him busy that don't involve dealing with Arthur directly, so he takes his time, mucking out his stables and polishing his armour more thoroughly than he's ever done before. He manages to fill the entire day working; it's gruelling and he's weary to his bones, but he relishes the distraction. It's long past dark when he finally makes his way toward Arthur's chambers, unable to avoid him any longer.

He pauses a moment outside the heavy wooden door sighing heavily with trepidation before knocking sharply.

"Enter," Arthur calls from inside the room.

Merlin pushes open the door and immediately drops his gaze to the ground. He's vaguely aware of Arthur sitting at the table in his room, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I've finished everything you needed me to do," he says without looking at him, and then adds as an afterthought, "sire."

Arthur doesn't answer, and when Merlin can't stand it any longer, he lifts his gaze and looks at him.

Arthur is inscrutable in the glow of the candles, the flames throwing shadows across his face, and Merlin can't read the expression in his eyes. He rises from the chair and approaches Merlin, moving with his usual assured determination.

"Merlin," he says in a low voice, and moves closer.

"What?" Merlin swallows thickly, not sure if he wants to run away or launch himself forward into Arthur's arms, so he stands motionless instead and watches Arthur come toward him.

He stops when he's close enough to touch, and Merlin's hands tremble at his sides. They've been this close before — all the times Merlin has dressed him or adjusted his armour, and of course they were closer than this in the net — but this is different and they both seem to know it.

"What?" he repeats, his voice scarcely more than a whisper, but Arthur doesn't answer.

Instead he studies Merlin's face with an intensity that curls his mouth and narrows his eyes. When Arthur steps closer still Merlin closes his eyes against the heat that flares up in his chest. In the darkness behind his eyelids his other senses sharpen and he realizes he can hear the sound of Arthur breathing and feel the warmth of his body so close to his own. Merlin inhales deeply through his nose and realizes they're close enough that he can smell the familiar scent, the one his mind immediately identifies as Arthur.

Merlin swallows hard, trying to push down whatever noise that is threatening to bubble right up out of his throat. He keeps his eyes squeezed tightly shut, but he smells his skin, stronger now, and feels a puff of warm breath on his face; he knows Arthur is _right there_.

And then Arthur's lips are on his, soft and warm, tentative in a way very unlike Arthur. Merlin lets out a little gasp, muffled against Arthur's mouth, but it's obviously encouragement enough since Arthur deepens the kiss, parting his lips, one hand pressing into the dip of his lower back pulling him closer, warm and possessive. Merlin's hands flutter at his sides for a moment, unsure of what to do, and when he feels the hot slick touch of Arthur's tongue to his own, they fly up around his neck, fingers curling in the soft strands there, desperate for something to hold on to.

The stirrings of desire coil in his belly, but they're eclipsed by the overwhelming sincerity of it all. Arthur's arms are strong and sure around him, and instead of desperate urgency he feels wholehearted devotion swelling in his chest until he thinks he may very well burst.

Arthur pulls his mouth away momentarily and then presses a series of soft, gentle kisses in a line from his lips across his jaw. When he stops, Merlin finally opens his eyes, blinking against the light. Arthur's face is inches away, and his smile is like nothing he's ever seen, his eyes lit up with genuine delight. Merlin feels a surge of affection clench tightly in his gut and he's unable to suppress a sigh of unadulterated happiness.

Arthur brings his hand up to Merlin's face and brushes his knuckles over his cheekbone, his touch a shimmer of heat across his skin and Merlin turns his face into it.

"I expect to see you first thing in the morning," he says, his hand lingering on Merlin's face.

Merlin nods. "Yes, Arthur."

Arthur moves his thumb across his lips before dropping it back to his side. "Good night, Merlin."

Merlin stumbles a little as he backs reluctantly out of the room, Arthur smiling at him the whole time. He stands outside the door and presses the backs of his hands to his face, feeling the heat on his skin and knowing he's flushed pink to the roots of his hair. When he turns to walk down the corridor, his legs tremble slightly beneath him.

He doesn't stop grinning all the way back to his room.


End file.
